Friendly Fire
by ParchmentRose
Summary: The Knights of Darion decide that Marcus and Alandra need a little help getting together, but not everything goes according to plan.
1. Plans

**Author's Note:** As usual, characters and locations belong to Blue Byte and Ubisoft. Thanks for letting me ruin their lives.

* * *

Lady Alandra de Westerlin was having a bad day.

She'd thought that once the war with the Red Prince was over life would be easy. No more big battles, fears of invasion or traitorous colleagues. But _no_. Even apart from all the smaller conflicts since then, maintaining an empire was proving to be just as difficult as building one. She had a pile of paperwork to sign off, training to oversee, and supply lines to review before sunset tonight.

And to top it all off, she had a splitting headache.

She shoved back her hood and pressed her fingertips against her temples with a groan, leaning her elbows on her writing desk.

"Are you all right?"

She glanced up. Lord Marcus was standing in the doorway, transparent concern on his face. She hadn't even heard him come in.

Forcing a smile that was more tired than cheerful, Alandra stood up. "I'm fine. I just need to go and rest, that's all."

She walked slowly out and into the great hall of Vestholm Castle, leaving Marcus blinking at her.

...

"She all right?"

Marcus snapped out of his reverie and turned to face Lord Thordal, who'd just entered the hall from the direction of the stables. "She says she is."

"That doesn't mean much." Thordal nodded towards Alandra, who was going up the stairs. "That lass would say she was fine with an arrow in her leg."

"I heard that!" came a faint call from the top of the stairs..

Marcus shook his head at Thordal, suppressing a smile. "An arrow in the leg is a bad example. They aren't that bad, really."

"Speaking from experience, lad?" Thordal chuckled.

"Naturally."

The older knight grinned broadly, then frowned. "What about you?"

Marcus blinked. "What about me?"

"Are you all right?"

He shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've been sulking like a bear in hibernation for weeks."

Marcus grinned. "It's been less than exciting around here recently."

Thordal looked sideways at him. "True, lad. But I reckon you've got other reasons for being in the doldrums."

"What do you -" Marcus tailed off awkwardly as Thordal nodded significantly at the staircase. "Oh." He felt his cheeks grow hot.

Thordal threw back his head and laughed loudly. "I knew it!"

"What's so funny?" asked Kestral, sauntering in the same door Thordal had.

"Look at him," Thordal chuckled. "Boy's face is as red as his crest."

Kestral looked at Marcus for a moment, then grinned. "What did you say to him, Thordal?"

"Nothing," insisted Marcus, swallowing.

"Just hinted at the reason for his grumpiness and he starts blushing." Thordal grinned broadly. "Must have struck a chord."

"Struck a chord?" Kestral scoffed. "Rolled over it with a boulder, more like."

"You're completely mistaken. I don't even know what you're talking about."

"If you don't know, then how do you know we're mistaken?" Kestral raised an eyebrow. "Come now, Marcus, we're not blind. We've known for ages. Even Hakim knows."

"What do I know?" said Hakim, appearing through the stable door.

"About Marcus and Alandra."

He cocked an eyebrow. "I am aware there is a certain mutual interest, if that is what you are referring to."

"How did you all find out?" Marcus stammered.

"Hmm, what gave it away?" Kestral said sarcastically. "How you always take each other's sides in arguments? How you panic whenever she goes into battle? Then there's the specific instances, like the time I spotted you two on the stairs -"

Marcus' blush deepened. "That's enough," he snapped.

"Admit it," said Thordal. "You've both been down in the dumps because neither of you has the guts to speak up."

"It's none of your business," Marcus said rather lamely. He drew himself up a little, attempting and failing to regain his dignity. "If you'll excuse me, I have tax reports to file." He stalked off, leaving Thordal and Kestral laughing, and Hakim grinning smugly.

...

About half a hour later, the Knights of Darion, sans Marcus and Alandra, were gathered in their usual positions in the chart room of Vestholm Castle. Hakim and Thordal were studying a chart of Gueranna and discussing the rebuilding plans; Crimson Sabatt was sipping a cup of tea at the writing desk, occasionally pointing out the chart's inaccuracies; and Kestral was curled up in a chair just far enough away from the fire to avoid charring her hair.

"Apparently, a second storehouse needs to be built," Thordal said, gesturing to the town centre on the map.

"Is that really necessary?" Hakim asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, since you burnt half of the original one down," Sabatt said dryly, stirring her tea.

"We could just rebuild the existing one."

"And leave the people without a place to store their goods?" The former enemy, now ally, of the Darion Knights raised one delicate eyebrow. "Where is your concern for the common man, Southerner?"

"I think they need a nudge," mused Kestral.

"The common man?"

"No." Kestral shot Sabatt a brief death glare. "Marcus and Alandra."

"What about them?"

Thordal grinned. "Have you seen those two? They're besotted."

"I knew _that_." Sabatt rolled her eyes. "But what precisely does it have to do with us?"

Kestral drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. "They're never going to act on it without help."

"And you're suggesting we give them that help?"

"Well, duh."

Thordal's grin widened. "What's your plan?"

"I don't have one. Yet. I was just wondering if you lot were willing to cooperate."

"Do you honestly think I wouldn't?" said Thordal with a laugh.

"Crimmy?"

Sabatt sipped her tea. "I fail to see how cooperation would benefit me. In fact, a pair of lovebirds around the castle is likely to do the exact opposite."

Kestral shrugged. "Fine then. Whatever."

Sabatt blinked, opened her mouth, then closed it. Kestral picked up the poker and stirred the fireplace for a moment.

"Of course," she said quietly. "It _is_ an excuse to torment the pair of them as much as possible in the name of helping them."

Crimson Sabatt pursed her lips, then smiled. "I might as well. The denial in the air is beginning to make me sick, anyway."

All eyes turned to Hakim, who had listened silently to the entire discussion. He raised his eyebrows. "Do you not think it is a breach of privacy?"

"Of course it is," said Kestral.

Hakim gave a lopsided smile. "Very well. I shall assist."

"Good." Kestral jumped up, grabbed a map of Vestholm from the rack, and spread it out on the table with a flourish. "Crimson and gentlemen, we have a strategy to plan."


	2. Mistakes

**Chapter Two**

_A few weeks later_

"Lords and ladies," the Queen of the Darion Empire announced formally. "I have called you here to resolve an emergency within our realm." She paused and looked around the throne room table. Not much had changed over the past few years. Crimson Sabatt stood casually at one end of the table, and Lord Elias was away on a trade mission to Gallos, but otherwise the small group around the table looked exactly as it had during the war with the Red Prince.

She cleared her throat a little. "Lord Hakim, it was you who brought this to my attention. Will you please elaborate on the matter for the benefit of your fellow knights?"

Hakim bowed slightly, then gestured to the map of Westerlin on the table. "This is the first military action we have had to take in the immediate area since the attack on Vestholm in the final days of the war with Raudrlin. Therefore, it must be undertaken with extreme care so that we do not disturb the general peace or alarm the citizens." He pointed to a spot a moderate distance north of the main city. "This forest road, about a day's ride north of this castle, has been under threat from bandits for the last few weeks."

Alandra's brow creased. "I have not heard of any attacks there."

Hakim raised two expressive eyebrows. "Nevertheless, the situation is in need of immediate attention. I suggest that a small force be sent in order to ensure that the bandits are eradicated and the Challia trade route remains secure." He looked up at the Queen expectantly.

"Thank you, Lord Hakim." The Queen frowned thoughtfully. "Lady Alandra, you know the road well, do you not?"

"Tolerably, my liege."

"Excellent. Lord Marcus, I believe you have not seen action since Hidun."

"That's correct, Your Majesty."

"Very well. You will both set out tomorrow. Take a battalion of infantry."

"As you wish." Alandra's bow was echoed by Marcus's a moment later.

"If I may, my liege?" said Kestral. "Lady Alandra, I suggest you take Lieutenant Chester and his battalion. I know they are officially under my command, but they have not seen a proper battle since Rossotorres and they are spoiling for a fight."

Alandra nodded. "That sounds perfectly reasonable. Lord Marcus?"

"I see no problem with it."

"Excellent." The Queen smiled. "I suggest you brief your troops. Dismissed."

The Knights of Darion bowed smoothly. Marcus and Alandra swiftly departed. As soon as they were gone, the Queen's expression broadened into what looked suspiciously like a grin.

"Was that what you wanted, Lady Kestral?"

"It couldn't have been better." Kestral laughed. "Hakim, you were brilliant. I almost believed you myself." The Janubian knight inclined his head modestly as Thordal echoed the congratulation.

"His success is possibly because he did not actually tell a single lie," said Sabatt. "Even I am mildly impressed by your skill at truth-manipulation."

"Enough," said Her Majesty with a chuckle. "Off with you, before I decide your little plot is a waste of valuable crown resources."

The Knights bowed sketchily and fled, all doing their best to hide their laughter.

...

"Just like old times."

Alandra turned to Marcus and smiled briefly. "Like before the war, you mean?"

The pair were riding north along a heavily wooded road. Behind them, half-a-dozen soldiers armed with bows and shortswords marched in a rough semblance of formation. They had left Vestholm at dawn; now the noon sun shone down between the oaks. The entire area was suffused with a pale green glow.

"Yeah." Marcus shortened his reins. "Remember the attack on that bandit camp in Western Glade?"

Alandra groaned. "All too well. I thought you were going to get us all killed."

"But I didn't." Marcus grinned, then looked rueful. "_I_ thought I was going to get drummed out of the army."

"You certainly deserved more punishment than you got." Alandra's tone was one of mock severity.

"Oh, I think I got quite enough, thanks. I've hardly ever seen you so furious."

Alandra looked faintly embarrassed. "I can't even remember what I said to you, but it can't have been particularly complementary."

Marcus cringed at the memory. "No, it wasn't. Fortunately, my military strategies have changed since then."

"A lot of things have changed since then. I know I have." Alandra spoke softly. "I'm not sure I'm particularly happy with the person I've become."

Marcus turned to her with faint alarm, but her face was hidden by her cloak. He forced a smile. "I don't see anything wrong with her."

She looked up at him with a smile. "Thank you. But -" She hesitated for a long moment. "The war changed us all, Marcus. And -"

An arrow whizzed past Marcus's face, missing him by inches, and embedded itself into the trunk of a tree.

...

Lieutenant Refec of the Darion Empire, dressed in scruffy rags, snatched a bow from the hands of one of his subordinates.

"Idiot!" he hissed. "Can't I even trust you to miss properly? That arrow nearly ended up in his head!"

"Sorry, sir," mumbled the archer. "I'll do better - I mean, worse."

Refec sighed.

...

Marcus's mount Athos flung up his head and shied backwards as another arrow, apparently meant for Alandra but rather poorly aimed, flew past. Marcus grabbed at the reins and attempted in vain to steady his mount.

"Defensive positions!" Alandra yelled, whirling her horse and unsheathing her sword. The battalion on the road behind her had already drawn their shortswords and were moving into a defensive box.

A lone bandit, clad in a crude attempt at camouflage, charged from the forest and locked swords with the nearest soldier. Moments later, a small swarm of men had surrounded them. Alandra forced one away from the side of her horse with a wild swing, then hung on as Daria sidestepped to avoid the strike of another bandit.

Athos bucked, kicking out at a stocky bandit and missing entirely. Marcus slipped forward slightly and grabbed a piece of white mane. He needed to get on the ground if he was going to have a chance to use his sword properly.

His horse arranged that for him. The stallion reared a split second after his hindlegs touched ground again. Marcus didn't stand a chance. He hit the ground with a sickening thud and rolled a few feet, then scrambled up. Athos bolted off north before Marcus could grab the reins.

A second later, he realised his sword was still in its sheath. Attached to his saddle.

Not good.

...

Alandra spun Daria out of the way of another attack, only to come within inches of a surprisingly well armed bandit. She struck preemptively; her longsword crashed against a wooden shield.

And stuck.

Before she could yank it away, the scruffy warrior tossed his shield aside, her favourite sword and all. She hauled at Daria's reins, in an attempt to get out of range, but the mare had other ideas. She kicked out, sending the would-be attacker into a tree.

...

Marcus sidestepped around a thrust and responded with a left to the jaw. The target of his fist staggered back; he took the opportunity to survey the battle. They were heavily outnumbered. Most of his men were already disarmed. _That's the last time I take Kestral's troop recommendations,_ he thought grimly. If he had another chance to take any recommendations at all.

He looked around for a free weapon, spotted a dropped shortsword, and dived for it. As he picked it up, something hard, heavy and pain-inducing connected with the back of his head.

...

Daria danced sideways unexpectedly as one of the bandits made a grab for Alandra's leg. The knight slid sideways, only just managing to stay in the saddle. As she scrambled back into position, her mare evidently decided that the better part of valour was discretion.

The chestnut horse kicked out at thin air, then bolted north the same way her stablemate had fled. Alandra clung on for dear life.

...

"You let her escape!" groaned Refec, sheathing his sword.

"Sorry, sir," one of his men mumbled.

"You're _sorry_? The entire plan pretty much depends on ... oh, forget it." He rubbed his eyes. "Anyone hurt?"

"Just Thompson and Elton, sir."

Refec glanced at Lord Marcus's unconscious form. "And our _commanding officer_. Felwood, I told you to capture him, not clobber him."

The unfortunate Felwood shrugged helplessly.

Refec covered his eyes with a sigh.


	3. Ignorance

**Author's Note:** Find the _Pirates of the Caribbean _reference and I'll send you a virtual cookie, guaranteed raisin-free.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Crimson Sabatt stirred her tea absently; metal clinked against china with an elegant tinkle.

Kestral flopped into her favoured chair in the Vestholm Castle chart room. "Refec should have them by now."

"I have no doubt that they should have reached him by this hour. I am less confident of his success in apprehending them." The Guerannan reached for the china pot. "Tea?"

Kestral eyed her balefully. "I shall ignore that gibe at my archers and refuse your offer." Her gaze brightened. "I'll have a biscuit, though."

"You do not receive one without the other, bandit."

She slumped a little. "Fine. But with lots of sugar."

Sabatt wrinkled her nose. "You expect me to defile one of mankind's greatest inventions with _sugar_?"

"Yup."

Sabatt rolled her eyes and began to pour a cup. As she completed this operation and began to add sugar, Lord Hakim strode into the room. He folded his arms.

"There are several piles of tax records that need to be filed."

"Your point?" asked Kestral.

"My apologies. Evidently, drinking tea and eating biscuits is a far more important priority to a Knight of Darion than the administration of our Queen's kingdom."

"Keep going with that attitude and we won't let you have any, Wise Boy." Kestral accepted the cup from Sabatt, grabbing a cookie while she was at it.

He frowned at her. "My point stands."

"I think we've worked pretty hard these last few weeks, eh, Crimmy?" She took a bite and continued to speak with a mouthful of cookie. Sabatt resisted the urge to retch, but the southerner did not seem fazed. "Convincing Refec this isn't insubordination, setting up that bandit camp, making sure Alandra didn't notice he was missing, making costumes and fake weapons, training our troops _not_ to kill each other ..."

"That last one was not difficult," murmured Sabatt. The others had either suddenly become deaf or were pretending not to hear.

Thordal marched in, humming under his breath, and snatched up a couple of biscuits without asking. Sabatt glared at him.

"Any news?" he asked, apparently immune to her gaze. No one seemed to respect her sufficiently these days, she reflected. Maybe she should rebel a bit, just as a reminder.

"Nope." Kestral took a sip of tea. "Silent as the grave."

"I hope you do not mean that literally." Hakim pulled up a chair and sat down. "I am still not certain that this plan is entirely safe."

"Fear not, southerner." Sabatt deftly moved the plate of biscuits as Thordal reached for another. "I have significant experience in this area, and if there's one thing I trust archers under my command to do, it's miss."

Kestral threw the remains of her biscuit at her.

...

Marcus groaned as the light stabbed at his eyes and shut them firmly again. His head was throbbing. He attempted to move, but something was restraining his hands.

After a few moments, curiosity won out over pain and he opened his eyes again. He was lying on the dirt floor of a small tent, alone except for a few boxes. His gauntlets had been removed, and both his wrists and ankles had been firmly tied with rope.

His first thought was how embarrassing this was.

He had a chance to voice his second thought as one of the bandits entered the tent.

"What have you done with Lady Alandra?" he shouted, attempting to sit up and failing utterly.

The bandit's face crinkled beneath his massive beard. "Now, now, sonny. Your lady friend will be fine if you just cooperate." He shoved Marcus roughly into a sitting position against a box. "Now, I reckon that the family of a posh young knight like you would be willing to pay a pretty penny for your safe return. Where might your relatives be found, laddie?"

Marcus glared at him, head aching. Maybe yelling hadn't been a good idea. "I think you'll find my family won't pay you anything."

"We'll see about that." The bandit looked down at Marcus with an unpleasant grin. "You'd be surprised what the toffs will cough up for ransom when their loved ones are in danger."

"My family isn't wealthy."

"That's what they all say."

Marcus intensified his glare, then squinted at the man. "You look somewhat familiar. Have I burned down your camp before?"

The man took a step back abruptly, frowned at him and stepped to the door. "That attitude just cost you your lunch." He stalked out, leaving Marcus to wait and worry.

...

"He's come around." Lieutenant Refec removed his fake beard as he walked away from the tent.

"No kidding. Half the forest probably heard that." Lieutenant Chester, a middle-aged swordsman still in his Darion uniform, laughed. "What did you tell him?"

"That she'd be fine if he cooperated." Refec sighed and slumped down onto a tree stump, rubbing his chin. That thing itched like crazy. "Someone else can go in next time. He nearly recognised me."

The makeshift bandit camp, about a quarter mile off the road, had been set up a week earlier. Three tents and a fireplace were what Lady Kestral had deemed the bare minimum for a plausible bandit operation; only two trees had been cut down on the edges of the natural clearing to make room for the tents.

Chester flicked away a moth. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, the plan's pretty much a bust. Without Lady Alandra, the most we can do is let him escape later tonight. We can't afford to break cover." Refec fiddled with the beard absently. "I'm still not convinced we're not going to get in trouble for this."

"Relax. The orders came straight from Lady Kestral."

"That," Refec said, "is precisely what worries me."

...

"You're both in big trouble, you know."

Alandra regarded the two horses severely from her position on a boulder by the side of the road. "Especially you, Athos. I doubt there will be any carrots waiting for you back in Vestholm."

The offending stallion eyed her with an expression of studied boredom, then went back to grazing. Daria ignored her completely, focusing on a particularly large clover.

Alandra sighed and pushed her cloak back, then winced. She was going to be so sore tomorrow. Daria had only bolted a couple of miles north, but the terrain was rough and her mount's gait less than smooth. She made a mental note to have the road repaved. The only worse ride she'd had was when she and Marcus had travelled all the way from Rossotorres to the Tios harbour on one particularly lazy horse.

Marcus. She hadn't seen him fall, but Athos' presence here made it fairly obvious what had happened. When Daria had fled, the battle had been decidedly in favour of the bandits. He was probably a prisoner now: a knight was more use to bandits alive than dead.

What in the world had made her think that one battalion would be enough to defeat a bandit camp? She was getting cocky, that's what. She'd thought they could handle it. Just like she'd thought she could handle Sabatt on her own all those years ago, or that she could handle a solo scouting mission near Rossotorres. Yet another foolish mistake by Lady Alandra de Westerlin. And once again, she'd involved Marcus in her blunder.

She propped her chin up on her fists, winced, removed it, took off her gauntlets, then tried again. The knot of worry in her stomach tightened. He might be a prisoner now, but who knew what they'd do to him trying to extract a ransom? She didn't have time to get back to Vestholm for backup. There was only one thing she could do.

She stood up sharply, placed her hands on her hips and addressed the wayward horses. "We're mounting a rescue mission, ladies and gents. So you better be on your best behavior."


	4. Resolution

**Author's Note: **Nothing significant, unprecedented or noteworthy occurs in this chapter. Nothing at all. *shifty eyes* Thanks to Rockerduck for beta-reading.

* * *

Eustace Felwood, of the Fourteenth Archers under Lady Kestral of Gallos, was guarding a tent.

It wasn't the most prestigious assignment he'd ever had. He'd been there at Gueranna and Rossotorres, and various minor battles since. Standing on the edge of a Westerlin forest, with a goatskin tent between him and the main camp, was a bit of a come-down from storming mighty fortresses.

Nevertheless, orders were orders. Lieutenant Refec had told him to guard this tent, and guard this tent he would. The task was simple: just stand there until around sunset, at which point the lieutenant had assured him Lord Marcus of Challia (who, for some reason Felwood could not fathom, was tied up in the tent) would escape. He was then to put up an extremely pathetic fight ("That should be easy for you," his commander had said grumpily) and allow the prisoner-who-was-in-fact-their-superior-officer to flee into the woods. On no account was he to allow Lord Marcus to figure out his true allegiances, hence his position here in the first place. The knight would think it odd if his escape route was unguarded and begin to suspect the truth.

Therefore, Felwood was watching the tent. It was still early afternoon, but better safe then sorry. He expected any potential attack or movement to come from within that structure. What he certainly did not expect was an attack from the woods. What he expected even less was for a piece of red, white and gold fabric to come from absolutely nowhere, flash over his eyes for a moment, then lodge itself securely in his mouth.

He was far too surprised to call out, and would not have been able to if he had tried. The gag and his hands were tied with astonishing efficiency. Then his attacker shoved him to the ground and looked him in the face for a moment.

"I apologise in advance for the embarrassment," Lady Alandra de Westerlin, sans her habitual cape, said with a lopsided smile, before turning and ducking under the tent flap.

Felwood groaned inwardly. The lieutenant was going to _kill_ him.

…

"Alandra!" The tone of Marcus' whisper was torn between relief and acute embarrassment. "Are you all right?"

"Shh." Alandra dropped to her knees next to him and began to untie his wrists. "You're in a nice position to be asking that."

"I was _trying_ to save face." With Alandra's help, he managed to wriggle his wrists free and started on the rope around his ankles. "What happened to your cape?"

"Used it as a gag," she whispered, tugging at the knot. "Where are the men?"

He started guiltily. "I don't know. I haven't seen any of them."

"Is – is it worth anything to the bandits to keep them alive?"

He struggled fully out of his bonds and clambered to his feet. He opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but paused. He couldn't lie, even to be kind. Not to her. "I doubt it."

She began to speak, but the unformed words converted into a gasp as the tent flap swung open. A bandit, stouter than the previous but with a similar beard, was standing between them and the camp.

Marcus reacted swiftly, snatching up the nearest of the boxes and hurling it at the brigand. The man staggered as it impacted with his chest and the pair made a break for it, ducking out under the back flap.

They were greeted with an unpleasant surprise. A group of the outlaws were standing behind the tent, one helping a man tied up in Alandra's cloak. Both parties stood stock still for a moment, then the knights dived back into the tent as the shouts began.

The victim of Marcus' crate-throwing had recovered sufficiently to return the favour. Marcus ducked just in time and charged at the man, knocking him down with a swift left.

"We're surrounded."

"I know." Marcus picked up the fallen man's weapon, weighing it in his hand. The fellow looked vaguely familiar, but it was probably just the beard. "Got a plan?"

"Yes, but it involved an open escape route."

"Then we'll have to make one." He gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, then rushed out into the sunlight.

The entire bandit camp was charging towards them, it seemed. Marcus took a swing at a gruff man who was running at him. The blade connected and he fell back, though his leather breastplate seemed to have blocked the worst of the blow.

"What happened to the horses?" he gasped out, dodging a blow from behind and riposting with a largely ineffective swipe. Everything was spinning ever so slightly, and something was pounding inside his head. He couldn't take more than a few minutes of this.

"They're tied by the road." Alandra dashed back to the tent, reached for one of the tent spikes and pulled. The flimsy structure wobbled and collapsed; a few muffled yells came from underneath.

Marcus struck at another bandit, grabbed Alandra's free hand and sprinted towards the gap between the two tents, dodging their assailants. A fellow at least a foot taller than him stepped into the opening and the Knights skidded to a stop.

Alandra stepped forward, instantly the military commander. "Release our men at once!"

The bandit stared blankly at her for a moment, then threw back his head with a roar of laughter. Alandra turned crimson, then white. Marcus grasped her hand again and swung out at one of the outlaws moving in to surround them. The thief staggered back; the pair broke through the hole and ran into the woods quick as arrows.

After a few moments of dodging branches and tree roots, Marcus glanced over his shoulder. Surprisingly, they weren't being pursued. Alandra changed direction abruptly without breaking pace; he followed.

"Thanks," Marcus panted, jogging alongside her.

"You're welcome. Are you hurt?"

"No. Well, I've got a throbbing headache, but that'll pass." He grimaced and hopped over a boulder. "I'm never listening to Kestral's advice on troops again."

"Neither am I." She slowed to a walk, gasping for air. "I think we're clear."

"Do you know what happened to my horse?"

"Tied by the road with mine."

"Good. Where are we, exactly? I sort of stopped keeping track after I got hit on the head."

"The camp's a little way off the road. I looped around it, but we should make it back to the track soon." She grinned. "I do actually know this terrain rather well."

He smiled down at her.

…

They reached the edge of the road a few moments later, climbing over a few bushes and breaking into the light. A quick glance around confirmed that Athos and Daria were tied to a tree a few paces down the road, looking curiously at them. Marcus opened his mouth, but a glance up the road in the opposite direction froze the words on his lips.

Three of the bandits were wandering down the road towards them. They sighted Marcus a second after he sighted them.

"Hey!" one of them yelled, breaking into a run. Marcus and Alandra turned and sprinted towards their mounts.

The female knight got there first, yanked Daria's reins free of a twig, and vaulted into the saddle. Marcus' motions were somewhat more ungainly, but he accomplished the same goal and slammed his heels into Athos' flanks, following Alandra down the road at a thundering gallop and leaving the bandits far behind.

…

"Well," said Chester philosophically, rubbing the growing bump on his head. "This does make things easier for us."

"I suppose." Refec grimaced, then turned to Felwood, who was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I suppose you didn't even try to stop her ambushing you?"

"You told me to avoid fighting, sir," mumbled the boy.

Refec opened his mouth to snap out a reprimand, then closed it again and turned as a voice called out behind him.

"Lieutenant!" panted out Gregson, one of the scouts, sprinting up to him. "Lord Marcus and Lady Alandra are on their way back to Vestholm!"

"No kidding," Refec mumbled, glancing at the wreckage of the prison tent. "There goes my commission."

The elder man shrugged. "It's not that bad. No shame in losing to your own superior officers, is there?"

Refec glared at him.

…

Marcus pulled on Athos' reins, bringing the galloping stallion back down to a more sedate walk. He felt the back of his head gingerly. "Ow."

"We've lost them." Alandra looked back over her shoulder, then at Marcus. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes. No." He closed his eyes for a moment. It felt like someone was playing the drums inside his head. Suddenly conscious that if he didn't dismount now he would soon do it without his volition, he halted Athos and dropped to the ground, burying his aching head in the stallion's neck.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes with a rueful smile. "Sorry."

"You better sit down for a moment." She gestured to a fallen tree along the edge of the road, face concerned.

He obeyed meekly. She tied the horses to a birch on the other side of the road and joined him on the log. "That mission didn't quite go according to plan."

He grinned. "No. No, it did not." He propped up his chin on his fists. "Why is it every time just the two of us go on a mission I get injured?"

"Because you're the most accident-prone man in Vestholm?"

"Yes, that's probably it."

They sat in silence for some moments.

"It wasn't – it wasn't just the two of us," she said shakily. "Six men, Marcus. Six men."

"It's not your fault."

"It is." Her tone was steady and matter-of-fact now, eyes fixed on a tree across the path. "I was too confident. I underestimated my opponent and my men paid for it."

"You weren't the only one. We all agreed to bring one battalion."

"The responsibility is still mine, Marcus."

There was nothing he could say to that, nothing that would stop her blaming herself. Her earlier words forcefully returned to his mind, and he shifted awkwardly. "Did you –" He hesitated as she turned to look to him. "What you said earlier, before the ambush – about being unhappy with who you've become. Did you really mean that?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't." She looked down at her hands. Normally, in that position, her cape would have hidden her face, but now her only shield was a few tendrils of blonde hair. "Over these three years – particularly during the last twelve months – I –" She stuttered slightly, fingers twisting. "Ever since I was a child, honour and principle have been everything. My entire life, every decision I've ever made, have been based on this. But then the war began."

"Alandra –"

"Please, Marcus, hear me out." Her eyes were beginning to well up with tears. "My principles seem to have gotten me into nothing but trouble. When I took the word of an enemy general, she betrayed my trust. When I believed the same woman a year later, she took advantage _again_. And it keeps happening, in so many other ways. All my officers think I'm a naïve fool."

He pressed his lips together, suppressing the urge to protest. If she wanted him to listen, he would. She continued with a shaky sigh.

"It's not just simple idiocy, like today. I'm continually risking my life and the lives of those around me because I'm holding on to a moral code that can't and doesn't apply to war. Instead of being an effective leader, I've become a weak commander who the troops can't trust to lead them to victory without someone to keep me from doing something stupid." She choked back a sob.

"Alandra." He took her hands in his and squeezed them gently. "Lani, you're _not_ a fool. Holding onto your beliefs when others defy them isn't foolish." Two pairs of blue eyes met and held each other's gaze steadily. "When you went to meet Sabatt alone all those years ago, yes, I thought you were naïve, crazy and far, far too trusting. But I also admired you. You had – and _have_ – the courage to do the right thing, even when it was insane. You were willing to forgive Sabatt after everything that she'd done to you and give her a chance, when no one else would. And she's proven you to be correct. You were right all the time while we scoffed."

"That does not mean I did the right thing."

"Yes. Yes, it does. Because you were the honourable one, all those years ago, not the cynic who would have run Sabatt through rather than negotiate. That's why I love you." The words were out before he could stop himself. Her eyes widened, and his heart leaped into his mouth, but the dam had been breached. All the feelings he'd held back for four long years gushed out. "Because I do. So much. And it's because you are who you are. Because you _do_ hold onto honour, decency, and trust. I've loved you for that since – oh, forever." His face broke into a grin. "So don't you _dare_ say you did the wrong thing."

"Is this a proposal?" she said, very softly.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

The smile that spread across her face was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his life. "I love you too."

"May I take that as a yes, Lady Alandra de Westerlin?"

"You most certainly may, Lord Marcus of Challia."

He slipped his arm around her and hugged her tightly.

"What took us so long?" she asked laughingly after a few moments.

He chuckled. Then it dawned on him, and he groaned. "Refec."

"What?"

"The bandit leader. It was Lieutenant Refec from Kestral's archers."

Her brow creased, then her eyes widened again. _"Oh."_

The couple sat in silence for a moment, assimilating the implications.

"They got us good, didn't they?" Marcus muttered.

"Yes, I am afraid they did." She stood, smile returning to her face. "But it does not follow that that is a bad thing."

He sprung to his feet and took her hand. "It most _definitely_ is not."


	5. Beginnings

_True love stories never have endings. _

_Richard Bach_

"Any news yet?"

Sabatt did not glance up from her book. "Asking me every five seconds will not make Gregson walk any faster."

Kestral flopped into her armchair. "Refec was _supposed_ to send him as soon as they had them securely locked up together."

"And he will have, lass," said Thordal, taking a sip from his tankard casually. "He'll be here soon."

She smiled briefly, then frowned. "I just can't shake the feeling something's gone horribly wrong."

"It was your plan, girlie."

"And you agreed to take responsibility for any injury or cost incurred by the Darion Empire connected to this scheme," Sabatt added smoothly.

"Does that include me strangling her?"

Three heads spun to face the door. Marcus stood in the entrance, arms crossed, eyebrows somewhere near the ceiling. Alandra was just behind him, although it took Kestral a split-second to identify the capeless woman as her commander.

Sabatt was, unsurprisingly, the first to recover. "I think it would be safe to conclude that something went horribly wrong."

"No kidding, Crims." Kestral jumped to her feet. "What are you two doing here?"

"Scolding you," Alandra said as the pair entered. "What in the world did you think you were doing?"

"How much do you know?"

"Hakim told us everything we hadn't already guessed." Marcus perched on the table.

"Traitor," Kestral muttered under her breath.

"I'm waiting for an explanation." Alandra's loss of her cape, however that had happened, hadn't detracted from her dignity.

Kestral looked helplessly at her co-conspirators. Sabatt smirked and Thordal grinned. "You're on your own, Kes."

"You too?" she groaned, before turning back to the pair eying her balefully. "We – _I,_" she corrected, as Sabatt raised an eyebrow, "was trying to help you two out."

"And wasting two weeks, as well as crown resources, constitutes helping us out?" Marcus snapped.

Alandra's face was grim. "Not only was it fraught with peril and a waste of time and money, but it was an unforgivable invasion of privacy. You intruded upon matters that were none of your concern, and in a way that was highly likely to result in injury to at least one party. I am appalled at your behavior in this matter – _all _of you." She glared at Thordal and Sabatt, neither of whom looked particularly contrite. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

A long pause. "Did it work?" Kestral ventured.

Marcus groaned. Alandra sighed, but her face relaxed into a faint smile. "Since you're obviously unrepentant, I shan't waste my breath." She turned on her heel and marched from the room.

Marcus began to follow, but stopped in the doorway and turned back to the company with a rueful grin. "Thanks, Kes. I owe you one." Then he jogged away before she could reply.

"Well?" the young woman crowed over Thordal's laughter. "What did I tell you?"

Sabatt's voice shook with suppressed mirth. "I hope you are not considering a career as a matchmaker, bandit."

"Not a chance." Kestral flopped back into her armchair, shoulders shaking. "It's not worth the effort. Or the risk to my neck."

"Speaking of risk." Alandra's head poked into the doorway again. "Was I mistaken, Lady Kestral, or did you state that you would take responsibility for any loss incurred by the Darion Empire in connection to this scheme?"

"Yes." Kestral sat up, eying her commander warily.

"Excellent. I shall expect you to have prepared me a replacement cape by morning."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thanks for reading, everyone! Credit for the last few lines goes to Rockerduck.


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